Well, Crap.

Did you miss me?

Picture me asking you this, standing shyly, head hanging down in an "Awe, shucks" kind of way.

Except no.

I am not standing. Because I have effed up my foot, Friends.

Shit's messed up.

Snuffy's Disease got way out of hand.

After getting a steroid injection that allowed me to walk like a normal person (as opposed to Thug Nasty), the damn thing wore off, I overdid it, and long story short, I have ruptured both my Achilles and Plantar Fascia. Ripped those things in half. Due to the tendons or whatever not being connected anymore, my left foot is completely flat and approximately half an inch longer than the right foot.

Shoe shopping is going to be a bitch in about five weeks. Also, when I saw the size difference in the bathtub, I started laughing. That might have been because I was temporarily hopped up on pain meds, or it might have actually been funny. At the moment, I am not laughing.

My insurance will not cover an MRI to see what needs to be done until after six weeks in the cast. I have to say, I'd much rather them suck it the hell up and cover the MRI. I am terrified of not knowing. Plus, for the next five weeks, I am only allowed fifteen minutes per hour of standing. That's it. I'm not great with math, but the hour it takes to get ready in the morning is effing me up. I try to sit on the counter while I do my hair, but showering and what not? Takes longer than fifteen.

My students have been hilarious in all of this. I tell them that one of the other students (I co-teach) ran over my foot with a scooter. The boy laughs and says, "I didn't even look back! What, what!" Also, they are practicing their mathematical skills and regularly tell me how much time I have left any given hour.

Plus, the cast smells. I can wash it, but it has to air dry and I am not allowed to take it off unless I am in the shower or driving. So really, I can't wash it. I should have figured that out when the cleaning instructions had a laughing smiley face next to them. Bastards.

My specialist yesterday did an additional ultrasound and I told him that while he may just have flown back from a third world country doing missionary clinic work, the smell that would hit him when I took off the cast was death, pure death.
 

Lastly, I have to wear it to bed and this pains me because I wash my feet when I come in the house. I don't like dirty sheets. And now I basically have the world's filthiest and smelliest shoe thing on my new sheets. Brand freaking new. It's worse than when Mel threw up on the comforter.

Much, much worse.


I would like to add that my co-workers/friends/Jeremiah have been so awesome that it brings me to tears. Seriously, they are amazing. I was crying (out of "Ohmygosh, everyone is being so nice!" overwhelmedness) and my coworker said "Emily? Are you kidding? We LOVE you. This is what happens when you're a nice person. Other people want to help you when you're down." And then I cried even more.

It was a very Sally Fields moment. "You like me?! You really, really like me?!" And also, because deep down, I might be nice. Who knew?

Wake Up in the Morning Feeling Like P Diddy.

No. No I don't, actually.

I imagine that his mornings are glorious. 

I wake up feeling like crap. I can't figure out if it is allergies, sinusitis, or a sinus infection.

Every single morning I am hoarse and it feels like someone has shellacked my throat in snot. I know it sounds gross, but believe me, living it is even grosser. I am an over-sharer, but I will NOT tell you what happens when I start coughing (I just threw up in my mouth a little while thinking about it.).

Crappy as I feel, there have been some great soundbytes happening this week, and I will be damned if I am going to be negative right now.

So please enjoy these conversations that have happened over the course of the week. Warning - some of them are not appropriate. They are the opposite. They are inappropriate. And childish. If you aren't ready for this jelly, you may want to skip this one.

J: What did you have for dinner?
E: A delicious breast of chicken with a sweet sauce and some grilled pineapple.
J: What did your friend have?
E: Tuna tacos...ohmygosh. Tuna tacos. How hilarious. They did not call them that at the restaurant. They called them Ahi tacos. With a special areola sauce.
J: Excuse me?
E: Aioli sauce. But we had a slip of the tongue and it became areola sauce...or nipple sauce. Tuna tacos and nipple sauce! Hold on I need to text her and let her know that her dinner tonight was hilarious.
J: And you are how old?
E: Looking up while texting - Apparently I am twelve. And a boy.

E: I told Jeremiah that you had tuna tacos with nipple sauce! I almost wet my pants.
Friend: How did we not catch that?
E: I continue to giggle as I think about how your dinner had all different lady bits in it.
F: I am nothing if not comprehensive in my dining.

Coworker: I kind of want to touch you. That shirt is fabulous.
E: You can touch me. I have been touching myself all day.

E: She shows symptoms of being a meth user.
C: I agree. It's like, "Hey, I've seen those teeth before!"

C: Venting to another coworker: Do you know how much time Emily and I spend together? A lot. Ten to twelve hours a day. I see her more than Jeremiah does. We're basically married.
E: It's true. I came home the other day and Jeremiah was like, "You look different..." He sees me so little that he notices all these little changes that he never noticed when he saw me all the time.
C: I think we are the job.
E: Thinking about this. Well, wait a minute. I feel a bit ripped off, though. I did not get a ring or cake or honeymoon out of either of these relationships. And we all know those are the three main reasons to get married...plus presents and a dress.

J: I am afraid I have some bad news...
E: WHAT?
J: Well, I caught Maddie in the act. She killed one of your ornaments.
E: Which ornament?
J: I don't really know. So far I have found a wing, a beak, and some stuffing. So it appears to be from the bird family.
E: Where?
J: It's everywhere. The carnage is everywhere.
E: But you can't tell which bird it is?
J: No. I am sorry. We may have to pull dental records. 

Today's text to Jeremiah:
E: Please don't forget to pick up our prescriptions. (At 12:01)
E: Oh, and a pizza. (12:02)
E: Also a pony. (12:03)

Have a great weekend, Friends! If you have any suggestions that may help minimize my snot, please let me know.

Hello! My Name is Childless.

 This weekend I was reading on Facebook a friend whose children had been reprimanded by a stranger in public. I don't know the details, so I am not really writing about the incident. What I am writing about is something that I have not been able to let go of since I read the responses to her post yesterday.

Someone (Okay. It was her husband. I was not going to mention it, but it got pretty ugly and at this point I am so disappointed in everything that played out that I do not give poo.) had responded that the reprimander, an older woman, was "a bitter, old, childless woman". Anger coursed through me and it would not stop. Has not stop.

To use childless as an insult?

To suggest that anyone without children must be bitter? My life is less fulfilling than someone who has children? I don't even understand this.

Not every woman has to have children to feel complete. To suggest otherwise is ridiculous.

Not every woman should be a parent. There are plenty of examples of these women in the news. After my accidental "trip" on prescription meds, I doubt my own parenting abilities. I fear I am a little nutty.

In addition, what about the women who have had children and lost them? The women who want to have (or wanted to have) children but could not? To them I imagine that being called childless is a slap in the face. The cruelest of comments.

I responded politely but with an obvious dislike of using the word childless as an insult. The response? That I think too much and that obviously any woman that would reprimand children that were not hers in public could NOT have children of her own (I mean, OBVIOUSLY).

Because all you parents raise your children in the same way? Because parents take an oath to never speak up in public when another person's children misbehave? Was there a secret handshake involved? Man, I am NOT pissed about being childless, but I AM pissed that I missed the secret handshake. I LOVE secret handshakes.

 I responded just as politely as I had the first time but this time suggested that perhaps the woman had indeed raised children of her own, but simply did not agree with the parenting style that she was witnessing. Was she in the right? Maybe not. But again? You are still being insulting. And to assume that everyone thinks you are the most awesome parent and that you never make mistakes and everyone wants to parent just.like.you?

Is just wrong.

Regardless of how you look at it - calling someone bitter and childless is defensive and insulting. It's a shame that some of us can't just say "Whoops. I did not mean to offend anyone."

Instead the response back was this: Is calling someone dogless if they don't have a dog insulting?

No, and neither is just saying that someone without child is childless. It's an insult when you pair it with all those other words.

At this point, he decided that I was a bitter woman (I would like to point out that if Jeremiah EVER called any of my friends names or made insulting remarks it would get ugly. Not that he ever would.) and I was just jealous. And that I was what was wrong with the entire world - people that made everyone else walk on eggshells. It was a shame that this value of respecting other people's privacy was not taught anymore. I should not read her posts any more and next time her name pops up on my screen, I should just keep scrolling and mind my own business.

I responded by saying that if you post something on Facebook, you lose your right to tell me to mind my own business. And then I told him I would work on minding my own business though, if he would work on being less insulting and stop name calling. It was a shame that no one taught their children that anymore, I said, because it would make my job a lot easier. I also told him it was a shame that two adults could not disagree without one of them making it ugly.

And then I unfriended my friend. Because seriously? Even if a friend of mine was completely out of line (which I was not) and rude (again, I was not) I would still have Jeremiah lay off or delete the post. But she just let her husband call me jealous and bitter and everything else.

He also said he wished he had been there to give that woman a piece of her mind. Like, in the woman's room?  My thought to this (which I did not say) was, Can she (my friend) not stand up for herself? And why do you need to yell at a woman? Too afraid to stand up to a man who might beat the shit out of your wimpy ass? So you go after women instead? That right there is a tough guy. Oh, wait. I mean an asshole.

Sad.

So he can have my friend from high school who apparently does NOT think too much and does not speak up for herself and her friends.

P.S. Edited to add: All the while he was attacking me, he and his wife posted about an adult bible study they were hosting at their house that weekend. That's really all I have to say about that. 

Sedona

I had friends visit.

The other night, after working until a little after six (which was leaving early for me) I got to go to the airport to pick up my friend (and college roommate), Sara. We had not seen each other since a meeting in Chicago SIX YEARS ago.

Holy crap.

If that was not exciting enough, on the way home, we stopped and picked up my other college roommate and dear friend, Rachel. Plus her babies. She used to live here in Phoenix but moved back to Minnesota, so I had not seen her in a year.

I could have peed with excitement.

There are pictures that I took of the babies and a group shot of all of us, but I am not going to post those right now.

What I am going to share are pictures from our trip to Sedona.

Sedona is a few hours (depending on who is driving) north and west of Phoenix. It is wonderful. Jeremiah and I have gone up several times for hiking. This time we decided to try a Pink Jeep Tour. By this time, we'd already dropped Rachel and the kids off at her sister's house, so it was just the three of us.

Let me preface this, picture stealers, with a warning. Take my pictures? I will kick your butt. Or I will have Jeremiah do it. Or it's an empty threat but please don't take my pictures. It's rude.

 We stopped at a vista point. The sun was rising. I was driving. I seriously drove the whole time. This is impressive NOT because I dislike driving or because I am bad at it or anything like that. It is impressive because mountain driving scares the shit out of me.

 When we got out at the point, it was cold. For people that live in a city where the current temperature is about 85 and has not been below that since maybe March, it was much appreciated.  There was a better picture but somebody had trouble with auto-focus. Jeremiah.

Here is the view where you first see the mountains. You come around a corner and BOOM! gorgeous views everywhere. Seriously, it actually takes my breath away.

Here's the worst part of driving somewhere spectacular. You do not get to stare and marvel. So instead I was like, "Somebody say ooh and ahh! Say it now!" But not everyone was quite as expressive as I tend to be, and there was a lot of quiet marveling. I hope.

 We signed a form in case of accidental death and I whispered to Jeremiah: Oh, my god. Accidental death? What the hell?!

But then I signed and got our discounted price and then I mentally played the game "Who do I NOT want on the Jeep with me?" There were a couple of high maintenance soccer moms that I heard discussing soccer mom-ish stuff that I would have been cool with riding separate from and also a woman who, in my opinion, was treating her child horribly. And giving him juice. Because that is what you want on a two hour trip into the wild. A kid that needs to pee.

Even though I played silently and by myself, as we headed towards our Jeep, Jeremiah whispered that he had known I was playing. He even knew who I did not want on the Jeep. He's a sneaky guy, that Jeremiah.

 I took pictures of Sara, even though she said she hates having her picture taken and did I NOT remember that from college? I am going to say that no. I do not remember. And just keep taking pictures. So there, Sara.

 Way to photo bomb, Jeremiah.

 The guide posed us in these shots. I kind of dig them.

 Oh, and you know the mistletoe that people hang during the holidays? Apparently it is invasive and kills other plants by mimicking the host plant and then strangling it. So the above plants are BOTH mistletoe, but one was hanging on one tree (evergreen, I think) and the other mistletoe was hanging on something else. Strangling and killing both trees. Think about that the next time you kiss someone underneath it.

 Okay. So in this picture, there is a white line on the butte hundreds of feet up in the air. People actually BIKE THE LINE. I am not kidding. Watch this video.



Then from the biker's POV:


At first I was like, I don't think the guy is wearing a helmet. But in reality, if you fall, it probably does not matter if you are wearing one or not. You are already throwing caution to the wind.

 I went down the rest of this hill that does not look like a hill on my butt. Everyone was like, "You can do it." and they gave me much more credit than I deserved. They obviously do not know my gene pool (coughfallinginparkinglotinFrancecough) or that I recently got stuck in my mini fridge. So I slid down on my ass.

 And then we looked over the edge and I did not get very close. But it was close enough.

 We got to do some steep stuff in the Jeep.

 On the way out of Sedona we stopped to see the church in the side of the mountain. I forget what it is called and I am tired of recounting the trip so I am not looking it up. It is impressive and I like it mucho. It was designed by one of Frank Lloyd Wright's students, apparently.

 Our last stop before our pie stop was Montezuma's Castle, which is also built into the mountain but in this instance, hundreds of years ago. I kind of wanted to go in it. But you can't. Suck.

A creek goes right by the castle, which is part of the reason they built it there, according to the signs I read along the path.

That was our trip to Sedona. I had a great time and it was fun getting away from the city. Only at one point did I lose my cool driving, and that was because as the driver, NO ONE was helping me navigate the tourist laden streets of Sedona while I was going through NINE roundabouts (which I kicked ass at, by the way). Ahem.

I just told Jeremiah that I wrote this part and he was all, "That's real nice. All you remember is the bad stuff." I prefer to look at it as a celebration of me surviving mountain driving and only getting ticked ONE time. Baby steps. Because I mentioned all the wonderful things that happened on the trip and only one minor icky thing.

Oh, yeah. We stopped for pie at a place voted one of the top ten in the country - a little hole in the wall place about thirty minutes outside of Phoenix. It was pretty darn good. I wanted rhubarb but sadly it was not in the cards. So instead we got coconut cream, chocolate, and peach. Yum.

I also want to add this - it was incredible to see friends from so long ago. It was almost as if no time had passed at all. We were giggling and remembering the funny/stupid stuff we'd done ten years ago. And making new memories. Love it.

There's Something Different About You...

A friend/coworker came up to me while I was ushering my students to the bathrooms or special or whatever. She looked a bit different, but I could not put my finger on it.

I was all, "Buffy, are you okay?" (Not that her real name is Buffy, but wouldn't that be cool to have a friend named Buffy?)

She started laughing. But only on half her face. The right side remained stoic.

"Are you drunk?" I whispered, even though my students were well out of ear shot. And even though if Buffy was drinking at 9:45 in the morning, I might have to stage an intervention.

Nope. Not drunk. But she's still smiling. It's like I'm conversing with The Joker.

"Did you have a stroke? Can you raise your right arm? Say a coherent sentence for me." I demanded.

No. She did not stroke out. Still laughing. Sort of. Business on the right side, party on the left.

"Botox?" I asked intrigued.

No. But now that I know she's not in danger of a stroke, a victim of bad Botox, or in need of intervention,  I'm laughing hysterically and tears are welling up in my eyes and I'm starting to wheeze. Damn the asthma to hell.

My students are looking back at me like I am crazy. Only because they can't see Miss Buffy's face. Because if they could, surely she would be the one getting quizzical stares.

Apparently Buffy's dentist is fond of the numbing injections before doing work. She was brave enough to come in to work afterwards. I don't think I would have been that brave.

She even sent me a picture of herself that I keep on my phone, so when I am sad or need a smile, I can look at it and laugh.

I am a horrible friend, aren't I?

Six more days of school!

Oh, No. Not a Beer Snob At All.

We've got new neighbors.

Mary-Next-Door moved at the beginning of January and we were relishing the silence and lack of diesel vehicles next door.

Not that Mary was bad, she wasn't, not at all.

She sold me these bowls at her yard sale:

I was in my pajamas, in the dark, at her yard sale. I hadn't brushed my hair. Or my teeth. But I WANTED these bowls. They are much prettier mixing bowls than the set I inherited from a co-worker. Plus, these are easier for me to lift down from their spot. It's love, I tell you.

Anyway, so she moved out. This weekend, the new people moved in. Jeremiah and I were hoping for a couple similar to ourselves - quiet, thoughtful neighbors. Aged appropriately, like us. We were hoping for people down with listening to some music, playing some games, and just hanging out. We were hoping for some nerds like us.


We had our first "Danger, Will Robinson" moment when they rolled up in a cheap sports car tricked out with a spoiler so big it could have acted as the doorway to Narnia.

But we remained hopeful. Right up until they were hanging around with friends after moving everything out of the Uhaul. We were getting ready to head out ourselves, so as Jeremiah was unlocking and opening my door for me I was spying.

Jeremiah: What do you see?
Me: Well, I see an Orange County Choppers shirt. This causes me to shiver just a bit, as I am not a car* person. 
Jeremiah: No big deal. He's not swayed in the least.
Me: I see a guy wearing a shirt that says "F*CK Scottsdale" This gets smirks and snorts from both of us.
Jeremiah: In front of their kids? Not so cool, I guess.
Me: Um, and they are all smoking and...
Jeremiah: And what?
Me: No, I can't. You won't like it.
Jeremiah: Tell me. I can take it. He braces himself.
Me: They are drinking Miller Lite.
Jeremiah: Oh my god.
Me: Out of cans.
Jeremiah: Silence. Forget it. It would never work between us.

And we drive away.

It occurs to me. In all the years that I have known Jeremiah, I have never seen him drink a beer from a can. Not once. And when I call him a beer snob he gets all upset. I am sorry, but you gotta call a spade a spade, you know?

So I don't think our new neighbors will become our besties, but who knows. Never give up.




P.S. Let's re-examine the bowls. Because they are that beautiful. When I use them I will fondly remember the short little woman with teased bottle blonde hair who could have easily been called a cougar, who hit on Jeremiah and wore short shorts. Sigh. Those were the good old days.

* Believe it or not, I actually know that OC Choppers is about bikes. As in, motorcycles. Not because I ever watched the show, but because I did watch Miami Ink religiously while it was on and they did tats for the guys in the shop. So why did I say cars? I think I might have been using cars as an interchangeable word for "thing that moves and goes vroom and gets you from Point A to Point B". That's my only defense.

Pirates

What post could possibly go wrong when it is entitled "Pirates"? No post is the answer. Pirates are a fantastic blog topic.

After all the horrible things that happened with the cruise ship nearly Italy - which is super scary and very sad - a friend of mine has decided that she is anti-cruise. Which bums me. If you remember, a cruise is on my list. And Jeremiah doesn't want to go on a cruise, either. Especially after he saw the pictures of the cruise ship turned 90 degrees in the waters off of Italy. Bah. Jeremiah is NOT a water baby. And apparently he is not into current events because he did not even know about this until I told him. I should not have told him. Now he definitely will not go.

So my cruise won't be a romantic one.

And it probably won't be a girls' trip. None of my friends (including newly anti-cruise ship friend) have ever  mentioned cruisin' it up, so I'm guessing? No.
Poop.

So then while talking with my anti-cruise friend I became defiant about no one wanting to cruise with me. "I do not care. I may go on a cruise by myself." I said haughtily. My anti-cruise friend explained that people mysteriously disappear on cruises.

Hmmm... To be honest, this threw me. But only for a second, and not literally. My comeback was quick and I spoke triumphantly - "Okay, so I will NOT travel alone, after all. I will travel with at least one person and I will not trust that person with my life so I will call someone who is landlocked every single hour and let them know what is happening. That way, if I do not call, they know that something is wrong and they can alert the proper authorities. You know, in case Jeremiah pushes me overboard or something."


My friend countered with the fact that "There are REAL pirates, you know."

Well, crap.


"Let me tell you this, anti-cruise friend. If I ever come across a pirate that has hopped aboard the ship, he can have my money but first I will ask to see his parrot. And he better have an eye patch. And I should see signs of a peg leg. And he should be drunk. Then he can have my money. But not without those things. Those are my non-negotiables. No patch, peg, or parrot? No money."

Here is an example of a (partially) acceptable pirate:

I think the fact that Jeremiah is ACTUALLY blind in one eye gives a certain amount of authenticity to the photograph, don't you? 

My friend looks at me.

Shakes her head.

"Yeah...Emily? You're going to be the first one shot."

So in a way, I win!

...Right?

Kitty Lovin'

I'm not sure at what point this happened, but at some point the cats began to give lovings. To each other.

They play fight a bunch, but they also groom each other. And cuddle. Maddie is a serious cuddler. That is, she is a cuddler when she takes a break from her all-around evilness. Have you noticed how orange her eyes are? Jeremiah and I were watching a vampire movie on Netflix and Jeremiah kept looking at the vampires, then Maddie. He thinks she's one of the undead.

Undead or not, I'm so incredibly grateful this holiday season that my kitten no longer scales my thighs like they are Mt. Kilimanjaro. That in itself is a gift not to be overlooked.

And personally? I see that she is growing almost daily, but her head isn't growing at all. It's like I'm raising Beetlejuice. Minus the sarcasm. And she doesn't grab her lady parts. But she does occasionally lick them.

Mel: I is tired. I is going to take a nap. Maddie: I is watching you and plotting evil attacks on your thighs.

Anyone else have beautiful/evil pets?

P.S. Last night I went to pick up some Christmas Angels and Jeremiah and I discovered that you can adopt an old person. I ended up getting tickets for four children (more on this later) and an old woman.  We picked a woman who is wheelchair bound and blind. She wants music, books on tape/cd, and a stuffed animal. I don't know if my heart broke or if it grew a bunch like the Grinch's. Please consider donating to a charity of your choosing this holiday season. If we all give what we can, it makes a difference.

Love.

My favorite group- The White Stripes. What a great video.



Gives me chills. Enjoy.

Cookies

A co-worker brought me a cute little bowl of cookies today. She gave them to me in the parking lot. I got them special because by the time my grade level goes to lunch, the ones that she sets out in the lounge are gone, gone, gone. No cookies for me. For five years. So this year she gave me a little bowl of my own. She's also the one that walked me back to my room in Vegas when I was riding the escalavator, just so you know (I like to make connections so you feel as though you are here with me.). I call her Mother Hen.

She brings me the cookies. I tell myself, "Wait until lunch. Wait until lunch." But you see, I didn't have breakfast this morning and TWO of the cookies had fruit stuff. So I ate one. Nom. And then while reaching for the second half of the cookie, I bumped into a thumbprint cookie with homemade butter cream frosting. I touched it, so I needed to eat. Kind of like, you break it, you buy it. So I ate it. It was delicious. Nom again. In fact, I am pretty sure that I could survive on a diet of just those cookies. But then I wouldn't fit through doors, so probably best if I didn't.

Well, then I ate the second thumbprint because I have NO self-control. And then I saw that one of the other cookies had a little filling and I couldn't tell if it was frosting or fruit or what. So I ate it to find out. Nom again again. It was like an almond paste, by the way. Delciousness.

Sigh.

So all I had was one last cookie and at that point I was like, might as well. Yum.

That is my story about how I ate five (small) fancy cookies for breakfast.

Anyone else have a food story that is slightly embarrassing but totally worth it?

p.s. I am listening to novelty rap from the late eighties/early nineties. Does anyone else want to bust a move?